


the noble thing

by aspartaeme



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy Hargrove Lives, Developing Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Post-Season/Series 03, Pre-Relationship, Unresolved Sexual Tension, but also. im me so like. sharp-edged fluff?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:07:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28601193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aspartaeme/pseuds/aspartaeme
Summary: ‘You gonna keep doin’ that?’Harrington says, ‘What’re you on about, man,’ and he does widen his eyes, then, and that’s. Very distracting.‘Wrecking my car,’ Billy snaps at him. A beat too late. ‘That’s the second time in less than a year, sweetheart. Starting to see a pattern here.’
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 15
Kudos: 162





	the noble thing

**Author's Note:**

> title from that lemony snicket quote, 'When someone is crying, of course, the noble thing to do is to comfort them. But if someone is trying to hide their tears, it may also be noble to pretend you do not notice them,' even though. there's no crying whatsoever involved in this. anyway

‘You plannin’ on making a habit out of it?’ 

The little jump Harrington performs on his chair makes it right at the top of Billy’s reasons-to-be-grateful-he’s-still-breathing list. The hospital gown and the beard taking over his face are in there somewhere, too. Help him hide a snigger a bit too. Fond for Billy’s taste. 

He already spilled his guts on chequered marble once. Drenched in neon, too. Doesn’t need to do it again on his. Not-deathbed. Just barely. By the. Skin of his fuckin’ teeth, really. 

‘Don’t fuckin’ _do_ that, asshole,’ Harrington whines, hand clutching at his chest and all. ‘Fuckin’ scared the shit outta me.’ 

Billy, who’s actually walked the tunnel and got real fuckin’ close to the light on the other side, raises an eyebrow. Hopes it conveys how. Thoroughly unimpressed he is. 

Hopes it hides how tingly he feels all over, too. 

Died and clawed his way back, and. It’s still the sight of Harrington smiling that jumpstarts his stupid battered heart and sends his pulse working overdrive. 

There’s an irony somewhere in there, and if Billy wasn’t too busy focusing on getting. His lungs to function. Properly, he’d appreciate it. 

‘Defibrillator’s down the hall and to the left, if you need it,’ he says instead. ‘I’d go and get it for you, but.’ He gestures at himself, more tubes than skin. Pumping borrowed time into him. 

Harrington breathes out a laugh, and Billy glares at the machine beeping menacingly next to his bed. He _knows_ he needs to get his heart under control. He doesn’t. Need the reminder. 

‘Giving me a heart attack while I’m visiting your stupid ass at the hospital. Eh, seems. Fitting. Y’know. For us.’ 

Harrington says _us_ like that’s. A thing, between them, and Billy loses his concentration for a whole minute, and has to suck in four consecutive breaths to. Make up for the ones _us_ stole right out of his lungs. 

He hums, because that’s all he can manage at this particular moment. 

Then he says, ‘Stop avoiding the question,’ and he adds, ‘darlin’,’ because apparently getting fucked in the chest by a meat monster made him grow a second pair, or. Sucked out the remaining of his functional brain cells along with his breath, or. Both. 

Harrington doesn’t even. Widen his eyes, like that’s a thing between them, too, _us_ and _darlin’_ , so. 

Billy pushes through. ‘You gonna keep doin’ that?’ 

Harrington says, ‘What’re you on about, man,’ and he does widen his eyes, then, and that’s. Very distracting. 

‘Wrecking my car,’ Billy snaps at him. A beat too late. ‘That’s the second time in less than a year, sweetheart. Starting to see a pattern here.’ 

‘That—’ Harrington wheezes his way through a full-body laughter that absolutely does _not_ make flowers bloom around Billy’s ribcage. ‘Man, you’re probably the only person on this planet who can write a book on afterlife and make it accurate, and your. Your _car_ is the one thing you’re worried about?’ 

Billy shoots him a look. He wouldn’t like. Bet on it coming off too hostile. His energy levels are still pretty low, so. It’s understandable. ‘My _car_ is my only way out,’ he says, and. Winces immediately after. ‘No pun intended. Not all of us got ponies on our sixth birthday and a dad to buy us a new Lamborghini every two months.’ 

‘Please,’ Harrington scoffs, eyes sparkling under the. White neon lights. ‘My old man’s keeping his Ferrari locked and the key always with him. I got the runt of the litter with that beemer.’ 

He follows all of that with a wink and. A twitch of his lips, and Billy really. Really wishes he could get his feet to. Work, walk him right in front of Harrington so he can wrap his hands around his pretty throat. See where that leads from there. 

‘’sides,’ Harrington goes on, looking kinda. Sort of. Maybe. Guilty, right then, ‘your car’s not car-shaped anymore. Not gettin’ you outta anywhere at the moment.’ 

He. Doesn’t sound too bothered by that, and Billy finds. He’s not too bothered, either. 

He’s done his fair share of getting out. Maybe it’s time to. Stay still. 

‘Why’re you here, then? Came to rub it in my face? King Steve-2, Camaro-0?’ 

Harrington laughs, and takes a while to answer, and. When he does, he’s looking at Billy through his stupid eyelashes. Billy can feel motion returning to his atrophied muscles, one blink at a time. At this rate, he’ll be able to throttle Harrington by the end of the week. 

‘You know it was Max, right? That night? Or did the Mindflayer conveniently erase the memory of knocking me unconscious and getting me pretty fuckin’ unfit to drive?’ 

Billy mumbles, ‘Not my fault you can’t fight for shit,’ and then it. Sinks in. ‘Wait, Max? First she pumps me full of sedative strong enough to put a horse under the ground, then she gets my baby totaled?’ 

Harrington’s ‘You still owe Joyce a new china set, by the way,’ gets. Emphatically ignored, because. 

‘ _That’s_ why she’s stayed plastered at my side ever since I woke up. That bitch thinks she can buy her way back into heaven one good deed at a time, huh.’ Not that that’s gonna stop him from guilt-tripping her into sneaking him candy and smokes every day, or anything. Might even make a game out of it. She deserves it. 

Well. She doesn’t, but. Billy thinks she likes it. Taking care of him, or. Something. Who’s he to deny her that. 

‘Not my first time,’ Harrington says, snaps Billy out of his thoughts. ‘Being here, I mean. Since you woke up.’ 

Billy. Knows that. He’s. Viscerally aware of Harrington’s presence. He can sniff him from miles away. He knows he’s been hovering outside his room for the better part of the last three weeks. Pacing outside the door while Max and El and that weird kid with the hideous haircut get Billy wishing he hadn’t survived for two hours. Every day. 

So. ‘I know.’ 

When he looks back at him, Harrington’s inspecting his thumbnail. Looking very focused, and all. 

‘Just hadn’t been. In here. ’s why I was so startled. When you spoke, just now. I hadn’t—’ 

Billy decides to spare him. Cuts him off, ‘Been babbling since I was six months old, Harrington. Can’t go meeting your ancestors every time I open my mouth. It’s not practical.’ 

‘Because you’re an asshole who can’t keep his stupid mouth shut?’ 

Billy purses his lips, because. Well. 

‘And yet.’ He scoots lower down the bed to relieve. Some of the searing pain scorching a line down his spine, doesn’t. Miss the way Harrington’s fingers twitch on his lap like he’s holding back from. Reaching out. ‘Look who’s here insulting the invalid.’ 

‘Not an insult if it’s true. And don’t use that word, asshole, it’s not. PC, or. Somethin’.’ 

Like. Okay. Having a near-death experience. Nearer than Billy’d ever hoped for. Changed him, a bit, but. 

He’s not gonna let an opening like that go to waste. That’s not the kind of person he is. Swiss-cheese lungs be damned. 

‘Whoo, baby,’ he whistles, ‘that’s got Wheeler smeared all over it. You even know what PC stands for?’ 

The whole act is worth it for the red that tinges the tips of Harrington’s stupid ears. If Billy was a better, more honest guy. He’d call it. Endearing. 

He’s not. 

‘Politically correct, you fucker,’ Harrington mumbles, and throws. The closest thing he can get his hands on at Billy. Sends a handful of Q-tips raining down on Billy’s lap, which does. Absolutely nothing to snuff out the grin taking over Billy’s face. ‘I know _some_ things.’ 

Billy highly doubts that, so he hums to indicate just that, and then. Starts snapping Q-tips in half to occupy his hands. Keep them from like. Seeking out Harrington’s, or. Something. 

‘How about you impart some of your wisdom and tell me what the fuck you’re doing here, talkin’ to me instead of. I don’t know. Throwing parties in honor of my near-demise.’ 

The silence that blankets them results in more Q-tip snapping. It’s down to quarters now, because Harrington’s just. Looking at him with a strange softness over his features, and Billy kinda, barely survived a dozen of tentacles through his vital organs, but. 

This one feels like a real close call. 

He’s busy focusing on the task at hand, snapping his Q-tips and pointedly ignoring Harrington and contemplating the merits of calling in a nurse to up his dose, maybe beg for someone to put him to sleep and end his suffering when Harrington speaks again. 

Sounding. Closer, and when Billy looks up he. Is closer, too. 

He reaches out to pluck a quarter of a cotton swab out of Billy’s hands, nails scraping against skin. Billy. Doesn’t squirm. He doesn’t. 

‘I don’t hate you,’ Harrington says, quietly, because. He’s real close, now. ‘There was a time, back there, you.’ He stops, ‘You really got on my nerves, man,’ ends it around a laugh. 

‘So now I’ve been upgraded to _barely tolerated by Hawkins’ resident monarch_ and you’re paying me visits to ensure the wellbeing of your faithful subject?’ 

Harrington smirks at him, and says, ‘Imagine if I built a kingdom around you, huh,’ which kinda sends Billy reeling, and leaves him dizzier than major blood loss against marble ever did, and then. 

‘Nah, you haven’t made that list either,’ Harrington says, and kinda. Pierces Billy’s lungs all over again with a thumb following Billy’s jawline, scraping. Against the coarse hair there. 

It’s a challenge, getting his brain whirring and buzzing and working again when Harrington’s tracing lines on him, but Harrington said _us_ like there is such a thing as. _Us_ , and if Billy hasn’t made the Most Hated list, and he hasn’t made the Barely Tolerated one, either— 

‘Billy.’ The thumb currently driving Billy to his early grave disappears only to come back. A second later with backup. Four more fingers scratching the side of his face, and Billy decides he’s never shaving this stupid beard. ‘You’re supposed to be the smart one. Be the smart one.’ 

It sounds like a plea, except Harrington’s been messing with Billy’s brain for almost a year, now, so. 

Billy knows it’s an order. 

He’s good at orders. He’s fuckin’. Stellar if they involve being near Harrington, and doing everything to keep his fingers doing whatever the fuck they’re doing on him. 

Billy wants to know what else they can do. 

He’s _great_ at orders. 

‘You know that diner, a little out of town, to the west?’ 

Harrington hums, and tries to hide a smile, and. Fails. ‘Rosie’s.’ 

‘If you say so. One thing I can say about Hawkins, this place’s got the best shakes I’ve ever tasted. Never had a ‘nilla shake like that back home.’ 

‘Bet you’re planning on getting one first thing once you’re outta here.’ 

There’s a line of stubbornly pale skin, even in the middle of fuckin’ August in Indiana, peeking under the hem of Harrington’s stupid t-shirt. Billy grazes his knuckles against it, softly. To give Harrington his share of squirming, too. 

It earns him a pinch under his cheekbone. 

‘You betcha,’ Billy says around the grin nailed to his face. Not going away anytime soon, seems like. ‘Except. Get this, some asshole crashed into my baby and now. I don’t have a ride.’ 

Harrington hums like he’s deep in thought, the fucker. Like he’s. Considering it. ‘Well,’ he says, and Billy’s already gearing up for something justifying at least one punch, ‘I happen to love Rosie’s shakes too, so. If you can settle for a poor man’s Ferrari, me and my BMW could give you a ride.’ 

‘We’d be saving on gas, too. Respectful to the environment, and all. Stick that to Wheeler’s political correctness.’ 

Harrington calls him an asshole, but he barks out a laugh, too, so like. Billy’s not that worried. 

‘So we drive out there together, and we get two booths as far away as possible, and enjoy our shakes, right? Sounds like a plan.’ 

‘Oh, no, no, that. That won’t work,’ Harrington says, and sounds real forlorn about it. Who’s the asshole here, is what Billy’d like to know. ‘Place is packed all day long, man. No way we’re getting two booths. We’ll be lucky if we find one.’ 

Liquid warmth flows down Billy’s throat, settles all over his ribs, gets him curling his fingertips around Harrington’s hips. ‘Guess we’re gonna have to share a booth, then.’ 

‘Guess so.’ 

Harrington tangles his fingers in the curls shrouding the base of Billy’s neck, which. Nurses another muscle of his body back to health in no time. He’s really giving professionally trained doctors a run for their money, getting Billy’s dick twitching under the blankets like it didn’t greet death a month ago. 

‘Y’know,’ Harrington continues, absolutely fuckin’ unprompted, ‘heard the fries there are to die for. Figure we can try those, too, since. We’ll be there anyway.’ 

His fingers haven’t stopped scratching and petting and stroking, and it takes. All of Billy’s willpower to summon some blood back up his brain again to force out a grunt, entirely involuntary, and a snort, voluntary to the core. 

‘Nah, I’ve already tried that. Fuckin’ hated it, too. Don’t want a repeat performance anytime soon.’ 

Harrington frowns at him. ‘The. The fries?’ 

‘The dying.’ 

‘Good.’ Harrington stops tracing circles on him. Stills his hand, instead, just. Cradling Billy’s skull. Just. Holding him. ‘Focus on stayin’ alive, then, and—’ 

‘It’s a date?’ 

‘Yeah. That.’ 

Down the hall, a nurse announces visiting hours are over, and Billy kinda. Wants to strangle her, when Harrington pulls away and lets Billy’s head fall back against the pillows. 

He’s never wanted to throttle a pillow more in his entire life. 

It’s also sort of. Worth it, though, getting to watch Harrington fix his clothes, focusing particularly on pulling his shirt as far down over his crotch as it goes, a _don’t start with me_ thrown his way when Billy’s caught staring. 

Harrington throws in a blinding smile to sweeten the deal, though, so. 

Billy thinks. He doesn’t mind getting caught. 

Halfway out the room, Harrington stops, fingers a vice-like grip around the handle. ‘Oh, and. Billy?’ 

Billy stares him down, and up, and down again, and like. He’s the smart one here. He knows. 

‘Keep the beard?’ 

Harrington licks his lips, and laughs, and his eyes are sparkling under the stupid neon lights, and Billy finds out he’s really fuckin’ glad he’s still alive, and. 

‘Yeah. That.’ 

**Author's Note:**

> catch me on [tumblr](https://aspartaeme.tumblr.com/) crying about these two idiots


End file.
